Entry 0006

You know what really pisses me off? When people ask me to do things. Do it yourself. Turn the channel yourself, get your own glass of ice water, pick up your own dry cleaning, call your own mother, get the fuck off your lazy no good greedy punk ass and make the photocopies your god damned self! Can’t you see I hate you? Don’t you know that looking at you alone is more than I should have to be forced to do? I really hate it when they ask me nonchalantly, like…hey do it or don’t doesn’t matter, like I can if I want to or not, its no big deal to them. Fuck you. Well if it was no big deal why did you ask me specifically in the first place? Why didn’t you send out an email blast, or a mass text or just do it your goddamned self by your goddamned self for your goddamned self? And I really hate being asked to do things where I have to hear this guilt ridden back story before they come right out with what they really and truly want which is something from me. Girl scout bitches and help the hungry dog assholes are the worst. They have to convince me that I want to give them what they want from me before asking me for it which is just a shitty way to trick someone into letting you have your own way with no regard for their thoughts or values. They must trick you emotionally, like some street corner pimp before they make you get on all fours in the suck position or in the child’s pose and make you do it. Its a fucking scam. Everyone is a greedy goddamn scam artist. I absolutely abhor demands more than anything. Demands make me want to immediately do the exact opposite action with the same fervency with which I was asked to abstain from it. Fuck you is what is going through my brain. Fuck you. Why do I have to do what you say? Why do you care about my results or my safety or what the hell I’m doing all the goddamned time? Its annoying you don’t want me to sit on the bridge because I might fall. Really? If I don’t know that then I deserve to fucking fall off that bridge cause I’m clearly an idiot. Shut up. I don’t need your help. I never ask people to do anything for me. Not relatives or roommates or employers or anyone. It’s not like they are sitting around waiting by the phone for me to call and suggest that they do something for me to fill the empty void in their lives. Like I’m their god and the best way they can show their devotion is to watch my house for me when I’m in the Bahamas or give me a ride to work. I just don’t ask. If I can’t do it or get it myself for myself then fuck it. If I am in such dire straits that I need assistance it will be abundantly obvious and LO, and BEHOLD, I will be incapacitated and therefore unable to ask and so my salvation will be based on the genuine concern of people who truly love me. The genuine kindness of strangers. The truth. No tricks. I’d prefer it that way. Instead of always owing some idiot one. Oh you owe me one for letting you get that parking space. You owe me one for letting you use the dryer or jump ahead of me in the grocery line. You owe me one for not hitting you with my Camaro when I was driving drunk through your neighborhood. Fuck off. I owe you shit. Die. What is even worse is that I hate when people ask for favors. Hey could you do me a favor is my least favorite sentence in the whole world. I saw that you needed help and I did not offer any help and instead of letting me go on with my life you ask me as desperately as possible if I could do you a favor and give you a hand. I don’t want to. Didn’t you notice? And now, since you have asked so sincerely and so politely and so manipulatively I am obligated to help you or I seem like a selfish heel and in your sadness turned to anger all you are going to do is blab to everyone that you see how I am a bad person because I didn’t assist your insufficient ass with something irrelevant and now everyone hates me. I just don’t need or want that kind of drama in my life. I won’t owe you. You don’t owe me.

The effect is worth the notoriety.

No one asks me to do shit for a while.

Except her.

She runs her fingers through her long brown hair and then asks me if I could do her a favor and get her some more tea when I go for coffee. She never returns this favor and she is never doing anything but hair stroking which most certainly does not prevent her legs from moving toward the break room.

I do it for her, anyway.

Then she says, oh, honey, I owe you one.

I don’t like it one bit.

Not one bit at all.

Share this:

Like this:

LikeLoading...

Published by

Queen Rude

Poet and Author originally from Indianapolis, Indiana, lover of words, expressions and creativity. Mother of one, Member of the Ohio Poetry Association, former member of the California Writers Club, Winner of the Barry Wright Scholarship for Poetry and consummate Dorothy Parker, Nikki Giovanni and Pablo Neruda fangirl.
View all posts by Queen Rude